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The evening wasn’t supposed to be anything remarkable.
Rio had been out longer than planned, she’d stopped by the greenhouse to check on the night-blooming plants, lingered too long in the quiet, let herself get lost in the familiar rhythm of pruning and watering. It grounded her after days that felt too sharp, too loud. She hadn’t been in a hurry to leave.
But the thought of Agatha waiting had tugged at her, as it always did. A pull she couldn’t ignore. The way their lives had started orbiting around each other felt inevitable now, like gravity. So she locked up, slung her bag over her shoulder, and walked the well-worn path back to Agatha’s place.
She expected something ordinary: Agatha half-asleep on the couch, hair spilling across the pillow, a glass of wine abandoned on the table. Maybe a book in her lap or the faint flicker of the television casting her in blue light. Something domestic. Familiar.
What she found instead stopped her dead in the doorway.
Agatha didn’t look casual. She didn’t look tired.
She looked like sin draped in wool and silk.
The suit was sharp, perfectly tailored, but worn in a way that was anything but prim. The jacket hung open, unbuttoned and loose, framing a crisp white shirt that had already surrendered to a few undone buttons. Her tie dangled around her neck, loosened like she’d yanked at it mid-thought and never bothered to finish the job. Long hair spilled forward, glossy waves framing her jaw and curling across her shoulders, the picture of deliberate chaos.
And then there was the way she sat.
Not perched. Not composed. But sprawled, commanding the chair with a confidence that was almost violent. One leg bent, ankle resting on the opposite knee, the other braced firmly on the ground. Her posture was an open dare, a silent challenge.
It was the packing, though, that truly undid her.
Obvious. Intentional. The bulge pressed against the fine line of her slacks was framed perfectly by the spread of her thighs, daring anyone — daring Rio — to look. To imagine. To kneel.
Rio’s throat went dry instantly. Her fingers twitched against the strap of her bag, but she couldn’t make herself move. Couldn’t look away. The air felt thicker in the room, dense with the weight of Agatha’s presence, like stepping into a storm you knew you’d never walk out of untouched.
Agatha’s eyes caught hers immediately. Of course they did. She never missed. A smirk curved her lips — slow, knowing, smug. The kind of smirk that promised trouble and absolutely meant it.
She didn’t move, didn’t need to. Just leaned back a little further in the chair, one hand lazy on the armrest, the other draped over her thigh, close enough to draw attention, not close enough to touch. A performance of control.
“Something wrong, sweetheart?” Her voice was velvet dragged across gravel, low and deliberate, designed to scrape against Rio’s nerves in all the right ways.
Rio hated the way her knees wobbled at the sound. Hated how heat bloomed low in her stomach, sharp and demanding. She swallowed, but her throat stayed parched. Her pulse roared in her ears, every beat echoing like a drum.
She wanted to look away. She couldn’t.
The undone tie, the loosened buttons, the way Agatha’s long hair framed her sharp jaw, the deliberate sprawl of her thighs, it was too much. And Agatha knew. Every inch of it was intentional.
Rio’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Her body betrayed her before her mind could catch up. Want hit her like a wave, strong enough to drag her under.
Agatha’s smirk deepened.
“Cat got your tongue?” she drawled, tilting her head just slightly. Her hair slipped forward over her shoulder like spilled ink. “Or are you staring for another reason?”
And Rio, frozen in the doorway, felt herself unravel without a single touch.
Rio hadn’t even crossed the threshold when Agatha shifted — not much, just enough. A slight lean forward, her elbow sliding off the armrest, palm resting against her thigh as her other hand crooked a single finger.
It was casual, almost lazy. But the effect was devastating.
“Since you’re already staring,” Agatha murmured, the words weighted like velvet chains, “you might as well get on your knees.”
Rio’s stomach clenched so hard it hurt.
Her bag slipped off her shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud. She didn’t even flinch. Her body was moving before her mind could process, pulled by something deep and undeniable. Her pulse thundered in her ears, her breath sharp and uneven, every step closer to Agatha dragging her further out of herself and into the orbit of someone else’s gravity.
Agatha didn’t repeat herself. She didn’t need to. She simply waited, lounging in that chair with her legs spread, gaze sharp and merciless. Her patience was worse than a snarl. It said: I know you’ll do it. I don’t need to question it.
Rio stopped in front of her, her legs refusing to steady. The bulge straining against Agatha’s slacks was right there, brazen and deliberate, framed by the sharp cut of her thighs. Heat curled through her so violently it nearly buckled her.
She swallowed hard, knees threatening to give out all on their own. Her eyes flicked up, one last attempt to anchor herself and found Agatha watching her like she was prey.
Her lips quirked in that dangerous half-smile, smug and inviting all at once. Her hand tapped idly against her thigh, the faintest rhythm of impatience.
That was it. That was all it took.
Rio sank.
Her knees hit the floor with a muted thud, the sound swallowed by the heavy silence of the room. She exhaled shakily, trembling as her hands hovered, unsure where to land. On Agatha’s thighs? Against the floor? On herself, to keep from shaking apart?
Agatha’s smirk deepened, slow and merciless. She slid her fingers through Rio’s hair, not tugging yet, just threading, testing, reminding her exactly where the balance of power sat.
“Good girl,” she purred, the praise sharp as a knife’s edge. “Look at you. Didn’t even hesitate.”
Rio bit back a sound, her throat catching around it. Heat flooded her chest, low and molten, spilling into every vein. She tilted her chin up slightly, forced to meet Agatha’s eyes, and the sight nearly undid her all over again.
Agatha leaned in, strong forearms braced lazily on her thighs, the undone tie brushing forward to dangle close enough that Rio could smell the faint trace of her perfume on the fabric.
“You want it, don’t you?” The question wasn’t really a question. It was a trap, and Rio knew it. But the word tumbled out anyway, raw and helpless.
“Yes, sir”
Agatha’s grin was feral.
“That’s what I thought.” Her grip tightened suddenly in Rio’s hair, yanking her head back just enough to bare her throat. Agatha’s thumb brushed along the line of her jaw, rough and deliberate. “On your knees where you belong.”
Rio shuddered, a sharp exhale breaking free. Every nerve in her body was alive, strung so tight it was almost unbearable. She should have felt humiliated, but it wasn’t humiliation at all, it was relief. Like her body had been waiting for this exact moment, this exact command, without her ever admitting it out loud.
Agatha’s thumb dragged across her lower lip, pressing down until it parted. She hummed in satisfaction at the sight, long hair slipping forward as she tilted her head.
“Open,” she ordered softly.
Rio obeyed instantly.
Her lips parted, tongue darting out instinctively as Agatha pushed her thumb past the edge, pressing down against her tongue, slow and deliberate. Rio moaned, the sound muffled but undeniable, her thighs squeezing together helplessly against the rush of heat between them.
Agatha chuckled low in her chest, the sound like smoke curling in the air. She withdrew her thumb, wet and glistening, and wiped it casually against Rio’s cheek.
“There she is,” she murmured. “On her knees for me. Such a good girl.”
Rio’s breath came ragged now, her chest rising and falling too quickly, every nerve screaming for more. The command had shifted into something heavier, magnetic, no longer just about kneeling, but about surrender. About giving herself over completely.
And as Agatha leaned back again, hand still tangled in her hair, legs spread wider in invitation, Rio knew she’d do whatever was asked of her.
Whatever came next, she would take it.
Because this was Agatha — smirking, powerful, suited and legs spread wide — and Rio had never wanted anything more.
Agatha didn’t rush. She never did. That was part of what made Rio dizzy, the control, the patience, the certainty that she didn’t have to hurry because she knew Rio wasn’t going anywhere.
Her hand was still tangled in Rio’s hair, grip firm but not cruel, thumb brushing the damp corner of her mouth where she’d just pressed inside. She looked down at her, lounging with all the arrogance of a woman who knew exactly how devastating she was.
“You know what to do,” Agatha murmured, voice low enough to scrape over Rio’s nerves like smoke and gravel. “Don’t make me tell you twice.”
Rio’s body answered before her brain could. She shifted closer, crawling the last inch until she was between Agatha’s spread thighs, knees digging into the carpet, hands rising tentatively to brace against her. The heat radiating off Agatha’s body was unbearable at this distance, the sharp scent of her perfume mixing with the faint musk of sweat and wine.
Her eyes darted down, unable to stop themselves.
The bulge in Agatha’s slacks was obscene up close, thick and deliberate, straining against the fine fabric, every line cut to frame it. Rio’s mouth watered before she could stop herself.
Agatha tugged gently at her hair, forcing her gaze back up.
“Eyes on me.” The command snapped sharp, leaving no room for hesitation. “You’ll get your mouth on it soon enough. But I want you to look at me while you do it.”
Rio shuddered, her thighs pressing together helplessly. She nodded once, barely a jerk of her chin, and Agatha hummed her approval before finally, mercifully, easing her grip just enough to guide her down.
Rio’s trembling hands reached for the button of Agatha’s slacks, fumbling clumsily before she managed to pop it free. Her fingers slid down the zipper, the sound loud in the quiet room, sharp as a blade. Her breath stuttered in her chest.
She peeled the fabric back just enough to free the harness beneath, thick leather straps hugging Agatha’s hips, the gleam of polished black sitting proud and heavy in its place. The sight alone made her whimper, a helpless, broken sound that she immediately tried to swallow.
Agatha chuckled above her, smug and devastating. “Already drooling, darling? And you haven’t even tasted it yet.”
Rio wanted to snap back, some cutting remark to salvage dignity, but her mouth betrayed her. It parted instinctively, tongue darting out before she could stop it, the tip tracing up the underside of the silicone in a reverent lick.
Agatha inhaled sharply through her teeth. Her hand tightened in Rio’s hair, not pulling her back but holding her steady, forcing her to stay right there.
“That’s it,” Agatha rasped, low and rough. “Show me how much you want it.”
Rio obeyed. She flattened her tongue against the shaft, dragging slow and deliberate up to the head, saliva slicking the surface in her wake. Her lips parted wider, wrapping around the tip, sucking it into the heat of her mouth with a wet pop that made Agatha’s hips jerk slightly.
“Fuck,” Agatha hissed, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before she forced them open again. “Keep going.”
Rio sank lower, lips stretching, jaw aching as she took more of it in. Her hand braced against Agatha’s thigh, steadying herself, nails digging through the fabric of her slacks. She bobbed slowly at first, adjusting to the fullness, to the weight of it pressing against the back of her throat. Her breath hitched, saliva pooling, dripping down her chin in slick strands.
Agatha groaned low, the sound vibrating through her chest. Her hand tugged at Rio’s hair, shallow thrusts guiding her pace, controlling her without needing to force.
“Look at you,” she muttered, voice wrecked, every word dripping with praise and possession. “On your knees, choking on my cock, drool running down your pretty face. You were made for this.”
Rio moaned around the strap, the vibration reverberating through it. Her thighs pressed tighter together, desperate for friction, but she didn’t move her hands from Agatha’s legs. She wanted to be good. She wanted to give everything.
Her rhythm quickened, mouth hollowing around the length as she sucked harder, spit slicking her chin, strings of it dripping onto Agatha’s slacks. Her gag reflex trembled when the head nudged the back of her throat, and Agatha groaned again, sharp and ragged, her free hand curling into a fist on the armrest of the chair.
“Good girl,” she gasped, hips jerking involuntarily. “Take it. Take all of it.”
Rio forced herself down further, choking briefly, her throat convulsing around the intrusion. Her eyes watered, but she stayed there, nails biting into Agatha’s thighs as she swallowed around it, desperate to please.
Agatha yanked her hair back just enough to let her breathe, the wet pop obscene as the strap slid free of her lips. A thick strand of spit clung from Rio’s mouth to the tip, glistening in the low light.
Agatha tilted her head, long hair spilling forward as she smirked down at her, voice rough and shaking with arousal.
“Messy already,” she murmured. “And you’ve barely started. Open wider. I’m not done using that mouth yet.”
And Rio, trembling, wrecked, completely undone, obeyed.
Agatha didn’t give her long to recover. The moment Rio obeyed, lips parting again, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed, Agatha’s grip in her hair tightened and pulled her forward. The head of the strap pressed against her tongue once more, sliding back into the slick heat of her mouth with deliberate force.
“That’s it,” Agatha rasped, voice lower, darker now, every word a command wrapped in smoke. “Open wide for me. Take it like you’re meant to.”
Rio moaned around it, the sound muffled and wet, vibrating through the shaft as she let Agatha guide her. Her thighs squeezed together helplessly, trying to find friction against nothing. Her chest heaved with shallow, desperate breaths every time Agatha eased her back just enough to inhale, only to push her down again, deeper and harder.
Agatha’s control was absolute. She didn’t thrust recklessly, every movement was precise, measured. Shallow at first, letting Rio find her rhythm, then deeper, the pace quickening until the slick slide of the strap in and out of Rio’s mouth filled the room with obscene sounds. Drool spilled freely now, coating her chin, dripping onto Agatha’s slacks and leaving dark stains across the sharp crease of the fabric.
“Look at you,” Agatha groaned, her free hand curling into a fist at her side, knuckles white. Her head tilted back slightly, hair falling wild around her shoulders as she forced herself to look down, to watch every second. “So fucking eager. Messy little thing. You love this, don’t you?”
Rio whimpered around the shaft, eyes fluttering shut, too wrecked to deny it.
Agatha snarled and yanked her hair sharply, dragging her head back until the strap slid free with another wet pop. Rio gasped for air, chest heaving, spit smeared across her chin and lips swollen, raw from the stretch.
“Eyes on me.” Agatha’s voice was hoarse now, ruined with arousal. “Don’t you dare hide from me.”
Rio’s lashes fluttered as she forced her gaze up. Her lips parted, shining with spit, chest rising and falling too fast, pupils blown wide. She looked ruined already, undone just from being on her knees, and Agatha swore it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
“Good girl,” Agatha breathed, softer for half a second, then her smirk returned, sharp as a blade. “Now open again. I’m not nearly finished.”
Rio obeyed instantly. Her lips stretched wide, tongue pressed flat, waiting.
Agatha groaned low in her throat and shoved back in, deeper this time, her hips rolling with more force. The sound of it — wet, messy, obscene — filled the air. Rio gagged softly when it hit the back of her throat, but she didn’t pull away. She clung tighter to Agatha’s thighs, nails biting through the fabric, anchoring herself as her eyes watered.
“Fuck, that’s it,” Agatha gasped, her own breath stuttering now, hips grinding forward harder. “Take it. Take it all the way.”
Her rhythm grew harsher, less controlled, each thrust shallow but forceful, using Rio’s mouth with deliberate precision. The sight of Rio’s lips stretched around the thick silicone, her spit dripping freely down Agatha’s lap, her throat convulsing around the intrusion made heat coil so low and sharp inside her that Agatha nearly lost herself.
She yanked her head back just enough to let Rio breathe again, the strap slick with spit as it slid out of her mouth. Rio coughed softly, drool stringing between her lips and the tip, her tongue darting out to catch what she could.
Agatha groaned at the sight, her hand stroking roughly through her hair before gripping tight again.
“You’re perfect like this,” she rasped, voice unsteady, words cracking with the force of it. “On your knees, wrecked for me, my cock down your throat. Fuck, baby — I could watch you like this forever.”
Rio whimpered at the praise, thighs pressing tighter together, hips rolling helplessly against empty air.
Agatha noticed. Of course she noticed.
“Desperate little thing,” she taunted, grinding the strap against her lips without letting it slip back inside yet. “Getting yourself wet just from sucking me off? Pathetic.” Her smirk softened, dangerous in its tenderness. “Perfect.”
She shoved back in again, deeper this time, forcing Rio’s head down with a sharp tug of her hair. The tip hit the back of her throat again, and Rio gagged around it, saliva spilling faster now. Her nails dug hard into Agatha’s thighs, muffled moans vibrating around the shaft as her entire body shuddered.
Agatha’s control wavered. The sight of her, on her knees, wrecked and beautiful, tears clinging to her lashes, spit dripping onto the suit Agatha hadn’t even bothered to take off, was undoing her in ways she hadn’t expected. Her hips jerked harder, rougher, every thrust now bordering on reckless.
“Fuck, fuck,” she gasped, head tilting back, long hair sticking damp to her throat. “You’re going to ruin me.”
Her grip in Rio’s hair pulled her back once more, strap slipping free with a loud, wet sound. Rio gasped for air, spit dripping down her chin, chest heaving. She looked destroyed. And she looked hungry for more.
Agatha cupped her jaw, thumb swiping across her swollen lower lip, smearing spit across her cheek.
“Such a good girl,” she whispered, voice breaking against her own arousal. “But you’re not done yet. I haven’t even started fucking you properly.”
Rio’s lips parted again instantly, eager, waiting.
And Agatha, undone and trembling but still holding the reins, smiled down at her like a predator who had finally found her prey.
Agatha didn’t waste time savoring her victory. She wanted more.
Her hand was still in Rio’s hair, tugging her head back just enough to see the wreck she’d made of her: spit-slick lips, chin shiny and wet, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy. Agatha smirked down at her, thumb smearing spit across her swollen lower lip.
“Look at you,” she rasped. “Messy little thing. On your knees, drooling for me. You’ve ruined my suit.”
Rio whimpered, her breath shaky, and that was all it took. Agatha hauled her up in one fluid motion, dragging her into her lap. Rio gasped, straddling her thighs, their mouths colliding in a kiss that was all heat and teeth and spit.
Agatha didn’t let her settle. Her hands moved with purpose, sliding down to the hem of Rio’s shirt. She tugged it up roughly, knuckles brushing hot skin as she stripped it over her head and tossed it aside. Her bra followed with a sharp flick of fingers, straps slipping down her shoulders until she was bare.
Rio moaned into her mouth, arching into the touch, but Agatha was relentless. Her hands roamed lower, gripping the button of her jeans and popping it open in one harsh tug. The zipper came down with a hiss, and Agatha shoved the denim down over her hips, taking her panties with it in the same brutal motion. She didn’t bother being careful, she wanted her naked, and she wanted her now.
“Perfect,” Agatha growled, dragging her back down until Rio was bare and straddling her lap, skin hot and flushed. “Now you’re going to ride me like you should have been from the start.”
Rio shuddered, thighs trembling already, but she nodded desperately, nails digging into Agatha’s shoulders.
Agatha didn’t give her time to hesitate. She gripped her hips tight, lifting her just enough to angle her down onto the strap. The tip pressed against her slick entrance, already dripping, and Rio gasped, head falling back as she felt the stretch.
“Fuck—”
“That’s it,” Agatha hissed, guiding her lower inch by inch. “Take it.”
Rio sank down slowly, her walls clenching around the thick silicone, stretching her open until she cried out. Her hands clawed at Agatha’s shirt, knuckles white, nails biting through fabric as she took more and more until she was fully seated, the strap filling her to the hilt.
Her thighs quivered, chest heaving, lips parted in a silent moan.
Agatha groaned at the sight, her own hips jerking involuntarily. “Look at you. Sitting on my cock, stuffed full like you were made for it.” She grabbed a fistful of Rio’s hair, forcing her head forward until their lips brushed. “Ride it. Now.”
Rio whimpered but obeyed, lifting herself shakily before dropping back down with a sharp cry. The strap drove deep, hitting exactly where she needed, and her body responded instantly. She set a rhythm — up, down, grinding forward on the way down, desperate and unsteady but relentless.
Agatha held her hips, guiding her, forcing her to keep the pace even when her thighs trembled. Every thrust drove slick sounds into the room, her wetness coating the strap and soaking Agatha’s slacks beneath.
“Good girl,” Agatha groaned, her own breath breaking now. “Fuck yourself on me. Show me how bad you need it.”
Rio gasped with every movement, her voice breaking into moans and whimpers, each one higher than the last. Sweat beaded at her temples, her body straining as she rode harder, faster, chasing the edge with wild abandon.
Agatha’s control was brutal, unrelenting. She pulled her down harder, lifting her higher, forcing the strap deeper with every movement. Her long hair fell across her face, damp and wild, her tie hanging loose as she growled against Rio’s mouth.
“You’re going to come on my cock,” she snarled, grinding up into her. “You’re going to soak me until there’s nothing left.”
“Yes—” Rio cried out, her whole body clenching, the sound sharp and broken. “Please—Agatha—”
Agatha slammed her down harder, the strap burying deep, and that was all it took.
Rio shattered with a scream, her body convulsing around the cock inside her. Her thighs shook violently, her nails raked red lines across Agatha’s shoulders, and her wetness gushed, soaking everything beneath her. She kept moving, desperate, riding through the orgasm until she collapsed forward, shaking and spent against Agatha’s chest.
Agatha held her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other gripping her ass to keep her seated on the strap. She kissed her hard — filthy, desperate, reverent — before growling against her lips.
“You’re not done,” she whispered, low and dangerous. “You’re going to sit here and keep me warm. You’re going to take every inch and stay full until I say otherwise.”
And Rio, wrecked and pliant, nodded into her shoulder.
Rio’s body was still trembling when the orgasm finally ebbed, muscles quivering as if her very bones had turned liquid. Her chest pressed against Agatha’s, her breath ragged and uneven, lips parted in soft, helpless gasps. Sweat slicked her skin, strands of dark hair clinging damp to her flushed face.
She tried to lift herself — instinct, a reflex born of overstimulation — but Agatha’s grip tightened instantly at the small of her back, the hand on her ass forcing her down firmly until the strap was buried to the hilt again.
“No,” Agatha murmured against her ear, voice low and commanding, ruined with arousal but still sharp. “You stay right here. You don’t move until I say so.”
Rio whimpered, the sound raw and broken. The strap sat deep inside her, stretching her open, filling her until she thought she might break from the fullness. Every slight twitch of her body made it drag against the most sensitive places, sparks of pleasure-pain jolting through her nerves until her thighs quivered.
Agatha groaned at the sound, long hair spilling forward as she pressed a filthy kiss to the corner of Rio’s mouth. Her tie brushed against Rio’s bare chest, the rough fabric a sharp contrast to overheated skin.
“Fuck, darling,” Agatha rasped, the words scraping raw against Rio’s neck. “You feel so good like this. Warm, tight, dripping around me. You’re going to sit here and keep me in you. You’re mine to fill.”
Rio moaned helplessly, her nails raking weakly down Agatha’s back as her hips twitched against the harness. The fullness was too much, unbearable and perfect all at once. She couldn’t stop the way her walls clenched around the strap, pulsing with aftershocks of her orgasm.
Agatha groaned again, her hands tightening possessively. “That’s it. Keep squeezing me. You’re not done — you’re going to give me another one, and you’ll take it without complaint.”
Rio shuddered violently, head tipping back, exposing the flushed line of her throat. “Agatha—please—”
“Please what?” Agatha bit at her jaw, nipping hard enough to leave marks. “Please stop? Please keep going? You don’t even know what you want anymore, do you?”
Rio whimpered, thighs quaking as she shifted helplessly in her lap. The strap dragged deeper with even the slightest movement, and she gasped, her pussy clenching tight around it.
Agatha laughed, low and rough, her lips brushing Rio’s ear. “That’s what I thought. You don’t want me to stop.”
She shifted her hips just slightly, grinding up into her, and Rio cried out, her nails digging into Agatha’s shoulders. Her body convulsed, clenching around the intrusion, every nerve alight with overstimulation.
“God, you’re perfect,” Agatha groaned, her own breath breaking. “Wrecked and dripping, clinging to my cock like you were made for it. You’re going to sit here and take everything I give you, sweetheart. You’ll keep me warm all night if I want.”
Rio sobbed against her shoulder, half-desperate, half-wrecked. Every nerve was screaming, her body strung so tight she didn’t know if she could survive another orgasm and yet her hips rocked helplessly, searching for it anyway.
Agatha’s hand slipped down between them, pressing against Rio’s clit with rough, deliberate circles.
“Fuck—no—please—” Rio cried out, her voice breaking, but her hips jerked down into it, grinding the strap deeper inside her.
“Yes,” Agatha snarled, grinding up harder. “Take it. Come for me again. Do it, sweetheart. Ruin yourself on my cock.”
Her fingers rubbed faster, circling, pressing, until Rio was convulsing in her lap, her cries sharp and ragged. She came again with a strangled scream, soaking Agatha’s slacks even more, her body shuddering violently as the orgasm ripped through her.
Agatha held her through it, one arm locked tight around her waist, the other still rubbing until Rio was sobbing against her neck, begging for mercy between broken gasps.
Only then did she slow, easing her touch, letting Rio collapse against her chest. She kept the strap buried deep inside, though, refusing to let her body close, keeping her stretched and full.
“Good girl,” Agatha whispered, pressing a softer kiss to her damp temple. “That’s it. That’s my girl.”
Rio whimpered softly, her body limp against her, trembling with every aftershock.
Agatha leaned back in the chair, adjusting Rio in her lap until she was seated flush, the strap still filling her completely. She stroked her damp hair back from her face, pressing slow kisses along her jaw, her cheek, her forehead.
“Breathe,” she murmured. “I’ve got you. Just breathe for me.”
Rio’s chest heaved against her, shaky but slowly steadier. Her nails loosened their desperate grip, sliding weakly against Agatha’s shirt as she clung instead.
“That’s it,” Agatha soothed, her voice softer now, gentler. “You did so well for me. Took me so beautifully. You’re perfect.”
She stayed like that, rocking her slowly in her lap, keeping her full but steady, whispering praise and promises against her ear.
“Still mine,” she murmured, long hair spilling forward as she pressed her mouth to Rio’s pulse. “Still warm, still stretched for me. And you’re not going anywhere.”
And Rio, trembling but safe in her arms, nodded weakly against her chest.
Rio was still trembling when the silence finally settled.
Her body slumped against Agatha’s chest, spent and heavy, thighs twitching around the strap still seated deep inside her. Her cheek pressed to the damp line of Agatha’s shirt, breathing unsteady, skin slick with sweat. Every small movement sent shivers through her, not quite pain, not quite pleasure, but the exhausted ache of being pushed too far and still wanting more.
Agatha’s arms stayed firm around her, one hand stroking lazily through her hair, the other pressed low on her back, holding her against her chest. The tie that had been hanging loose for hours now stuck damp to Rio’s bare skin, wrinkled and ruined. Agatha tilted her head to press a kiss into her temple — soft, grounding — before finally loosening her grip.
“Easy now,” she murmured, her voice low, frayed but gentle in a way that Rio rarely heard. “I’ve got you.”
Rio whimpered softly, clinging tighter, as if afraid that if she let go, she’d collapse to the floor.
Agatha chuckled under her breath and smoothed her hair back. “I know. But we can’t stay like this forever, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She shifted carefully, sliding her hands to Rio’s hips. Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her up, easing the strap free inch by inch. Rio gasped, a raw little cry breaking loose at the stretch, her body convulsing around it one last time before it slipped free. She sagged against Agatha’s chest, thighs shaking, slick dripping down onto already ruined slacks.
“Shh,” Agatha soothed, pressing kisses along her hairline as she held her. “I know. I know.”
When Rio’s breathing steadied enough to move, Agatha adjusted her grip, scooping an arm under her thighs and standing with a groan. The suit jacket shifted across her shoulders, the loosened tie swinging between them, her hair sticking damp to her temples. But she carried Rio easily towards the bedroom, settling her onto the bed.
Rio blinked up at her, dazed and flushed, her hair tangled across her face. She looked wrecked and beautiful.
Agatha smirked faintly, brushing damp strands back from her cheek. “Stay right here. Don’t move.”
Rio gave a weak laugh that dissolved into a sigh. “Like I could.”
Agatha chuckled low, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before stepping away. She returned quickly with a damp cloth and a bottle of water, setting them on the nightstand. But before she touched Rio again, she stripped off her ruined slacks and jacket, peeling away the layers that clung with sweat and slick. The tie was tugged free, the shirt unbuttoned and discarded until she stood in just the harness and her undershirt, long hair falling wild around her shoulders.
Rio’s eyes lingered, glassy and reverent. “You look… indecently good like that.”
Agatha arched a brow, smirk tugging at her lips. “Flattery won’t save you, my love.” Still, her tone was softer, warmer now. She slid onto the bed beside her, cloth in hand, and began to wipe gently at her thighs, cleaning away the mess with slow, careful strokes.
Rio winced at the sensitivity, but the touch was soothing, warm, grounding. She exhaled shakily, leaning into the mattress as Agatha worked.
“There we go,” Agatha murmured. “My perfect girl. You did so well for me.”
Rio’s lips curved faintly, her eyes fluttering shut at the praise. “Bossy as hell… but gentle after.”
Agatha snorted softly, dipping the cloth in fresh water before continuing. “Contrary to appearances, I do know how to take care of someone I’ve wrecked.”
When she finished cleaning her, she tossed the cloth aside and reached for the water bottle, unscrewing the cap and holding it out. “Drink.”
Rio took it with shaking hands, sipping slowly, her throat dry and raw. Agatha watched her carefully, one hand tracing idle circles on her bare stomach, grounding her without crowding.
When Rio lowered the bottle, Agatha leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, long hair mingling damp and tangled. “Better?”
Rio hummed softly. “Better.” Her hand slid weakly to Agatha’s harness, fingers curling around the strap at her hip. “You should take this off.”
Agatha raised a brow. “Are you volunteering?”
Rio’s lips curved, lazy and soft. “Always.”
Agatha allowed it. She lay back, and Rio shifted clumsily, still trembling, but her hands moved with quiet reverence. She unbuckled the harness strap by strap, pulling it free with slow precision. When it was finally off, she set it aside carefully before sliding into Agatha’s arms, pressing her face into her shoulder.
Agatha wrapped her close, stroking her back, lips pressing against her hair. “Good girl,” she murmured again, softer now, more tender. “All done.”
For a long while, they just lay there, tangled in sweat and warmth, the storm of before replaced by the quiet rhythm of steady breaths.
Eventually, Agatha shifted, tilting Rio’s chin up with one finger. Their lips met in a kiss that was nothing like the frantic ones before — slow, deep, lingering. A kiss that spoke of devotion, of claim, of softness that Agatha rarely allowed herself to show.
When she pulled back, her voice was barely a whisper. “Mine.”
Rio smiled faintly, her eyes heavy-lidded but sure. “Yours.”
The world was still dim when Rio stirred.
A pale wash of dawn crept across the blinds, painting the room in muted silver. The air smelled faintly of sweat, leather, and something floral, Agatha’s perfume, still clinging stubbornly to her skin. Her body felt heavy, as though every muscle had been wrung out and left to dry. When she shifted, a sharp ache flared low in her hips, thighs protesting even the smallest movement.
She groaned, burying her face into the pillow. “Dios…”
Beside her, Agatha chuckled — a low, husky sound, wrecked from the night before. “Good morning to you too, darling.”
Rio cracked one eye open, only to be met with a vision that nearly undid her all over again. Agatha was sprawled on her side, propped up on one elbow, her hair a chaotic tangle around her shoulders, lips still faintly swollen. She hadn’t bothered putting anything back on beyond an undershirt, which hung loose and rumpled, collarbone bare where the fabric had slipped.
And that smirk. Smug. Slow. Infuriatingly satisfied.
Rio groaned again and shoved her face deeper into the pillow. “You look entirely too pleased with yourself.”
“I am,” Agatha said without hesitation. She reached out and traced lazy fingers along Rio’s bare spine, nails dragging lightly enough to make her shiver. “You should see the state of you. Bruised knees, bite marks, scratches down my back…” She leaned in, pressing her mouth to the shell of Rio’s ear. “I should frame you like this.”
Rio’s ears burned, though she refused to give Agatha the satisfaction of a proper reply. Instead, she grumbled, “I can’t move my legs.”
“That would be my fault,” Agatha purred, clearly delighted. “And I’m not sorry.”
Rio groaned louder, rolling onto her back with effort. Muscles twinged, thighs trembling with soreness, but she managed, glaring faintly at the ceiling before turning her head to look at Agatha. “You’re insufferable.”
“Mm.” Agatha hummed, long hair spilling forward as she leaned down to kiss her forehead. “And you’re gorgeous when you’re wrecked. Funny how that works out.”
Rio tried for a scowl but failed, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. She let herself melt into the touch instead, sighing as Agatha’s lips brushed her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. The kisses were soft now, reverent in a way that contrasted sharply with the brutality of the night before.
“Don’t tell me you’re turning sentimental,” Rio teased weakly, though her voice cracked at the edges.
Agatha grinned against her jaw. “Don’t tell me you’re complaining.”
Rio huffed but didn’t argue. She reached out blindly, catching a fistful of Agatha’s shirt and tugging her closer until they were pressed together again. Agatha went willingly, tangling their legs, one hand splaying across Rio’s stomach.
They lay like that for a while, breathing in sync, the quiet morning wrapping around them like another layer of sheets.
Eventually, Rio spoke again, voice muffled into Agatha’s shoulder. “I can’t walk. You’re carrying me to the kitchen.”
Agatha laughed, low and warm. “Gladly. But you should know, if I carry you out there, the neighbors might see the state of you.” Her grin widened, sharp as ever. “And I wouldn’t mind that at all.”
Rio swatted at her weakly. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love it,” Agatha shot back instantly, smugness dripping from every word.
Rio sighed, closing her eyes again. “…Unfortunately, yes.”
Agatha’s laughter softened, fading into a kiss pressed against her hair. She tucked Rio closer, Agatha’s hair spilling over both of them like a curtain. For once, her smirk eased into something gentler — not gone, never gone, but softened at the edges, tempered with affection she rarely allowed to surface.
“Rest a little longer,” she murmured. “I’ll feed you when you’re ready.”
Rio hummed, the sound small and content. “Coffee.”
“Coffee,” Agatha agreed. “Eggs. Maybe fruit. I’ll spoil you rotten.”
Rio let out the faintest laugh, breath tickling against Agatha’s chest. “You already did.”
Agatha’s smirk returned, but quieter now, fond. She kissed her once more, long and slow, before settling them back into the pillows.
And that was how morning found them: tangled together in sheets and messy hair, smugness and soreness, wrapped in the kind of quiet intimacy that made the chaos of the night before feel like a storm worth surviving.